


Unforgotten (Don't Tell Me Bye)

by JupiterJoon



Series: BTS Drabbles/Imagines [2]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Short One Shot, This takes place in the RUN universe 5 years later, a little sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-01-25 07:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21352717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JupiterJoon/pseuds/JupiterJoon
Summary: Five years after parting ways (as in the scene from the Run MV), Jungkook turns up on Yoongi's doorstep
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Min Yoongi | Suga
Series: BTS Drabbles/Imagines [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1473788
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on a happy Yoonkook series but I couldn't get this sad scene out of my head so I had to vent.  
Songspo: Nomad by Rocky Hil & The Weeknd // Bottom Bitch by Doja Cat

Yoongi can tell from the knock. It’s him.

“Jungkook?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes as he wanders down the hall of his studio apartment. The name comes out of his mouth naturally, yet the syllables are foreign to his ears.

The familiar pattern sounds again. He ruffles hands through his black hair, trying to adjust to how dark his apartment got while he worked. When he swings the door open, the past comes rushing in.

He stands taller than Yoongi, hands stuffed in an old jacket, the hot air turning into white puffs around his face. For a second, Yoongi only stands there, blinking. It’s the same boy from five years ago, eyes wide with wonder and a touch of fear. But his jaw has toned up, his cheekbones more pronounced, and there’s something else in those eyes. Something that had only just started when Yoongi said goodbye.

Forced their goodbye.

“Hyung,” Jungkook’s voice wavers. 

“Jungkook,” Yoongi breathes, leaning on the doorknob for support. This time, it feels and sounds natural.

Jungkook’s eyes glass over. “Hyung, I…” he sniffs, and the doorknob creaks under Yoongi’s death grip. Jungkook scuffs his boot against the cement of the porch lining Yoongi’s unit.

“This is Seoul,” Yoongi remarks, unsure of what else to say. Jungkook’s head shoots back up, bushy hair bobbing on his forehead and brushing over his forehead. Yoongi now sees a red scratch covering the right side of his head. His fingers fail him, reaching forward before he can stop them. Jungkook watches the hand outstretched, stopping short of his forehead.

“I missed you,” Jungkook all but whispers.

“I-” Yoongi’s fingers tap at the wound on Jungkook’s head. He winces, but everything in Jungkook pulls him to the touch, the first time he’s felt Yoongi in so long. Yoongi pulls his fingers back, biting the inside of his cheek. Jungkook’s nose and cheeks redden.

Yoongi turns when one tear rolls down Jungkook’s cheek. He remembers the last time he saw Jungkook, when tears streamed down his bruised face. “Come in.”

Almost out of habit, Yoongi wanders to his bedroom. He doesn’t stop when he hears Jungkook struggling out of his boots. He doesn’t turn around when he hears Jungkook sniffle again. But he does dawdle at the doorway. He waits for the sound of padded socks closing in gives before stepping into his room.

The lamp still alights on his desk casts a warm glow in his bedroom. Yoongi heads to his bed, letting his back fall across the surface. Jungkook sheds his jacket. Yoongi stares at the ceiling. His clean, bland ceiling in his clean, Seoul apartment.

And now Jungkook is here in his apartment. Hundreds of miles from the last time they’d done this. When Yoongi was the reason Jungkook had a scratch on his face. When he had one to match from Jungkook’s bruised knuckles. When his ceiling was cracked, dirty, scarred by smoke.

The bed dips, and so does Yoongi’s stomach. Jungkook doesn’t come into Yoongi’s view, he doesn’t smile down at him with those big teeth and big scrunched nose. Yoongi doesn’t tell him he’s too old to act like a child. Instead, Yoongi sighs when Jungkook rests his head on Yoongi’s arm, hair sweaty. He takes in a deep breath when Jungkook’s arm curls around his waist. If he closes his eyes, no time has passed. He can’t bother with feeling hungry or not when his stomach is full of butterflies. He can’t be troubled when the world is filled with the sweet scent of Jungkook who valued his cleanliness no matter his situation.

Yoongi tucks his chin when the bed starts to shake. Jungkook’s head is tucked, but Yoongi feels it. Something warm and wet starts to smear on his arm. Jungkook’s legs curl up, knees knocking Yoongi’s thigh.

Yoongi looks back at the ceiling, glaring. The world could have given him some kind of warning that his past would come knocking.

But the world was never so kind.

“So,” he tries to sound casual as he curls his arm up, running fingers through Jungkook’s hair. “Been a while, huh?”

Jungkook grunts, head nodding. His other arm comes up, wrapping around Yoongi’s shoulder. The bed feels more like a vast ocean, and Jungkook clings to him like a life raft. Yoongi feels something tug behind his eyes.

“Jungkook,” the boy shudders at his name. “What’s-”

“I’m sorry,” he blubbers. His voice is just as soft and high-pitched as Yoongi remembers. “I’m so-” A heavy sob rocks through Jungkook. Yoongi can’t help the way he pulls Jungkook closer.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long.”

Yoongi blinks hard. He frowns at the ceiling and at the world. He sucks in his bottom lip, but the tears roll down the side of his face.

“Don’t be sorry,” he orders. Jungkook pulls closer, his leg now over Yoongi’s, shoulder leaning into his chest. He’s so much bigger now, firmer, stronger as he refuses to let go. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, remembering the way he could see Jungkook’s heartbreak when he’d clung to Yoongi’s shirt that day. He’d begged Yoongi to come back to him, or to take him with him. Yoongi could differentiate the brown from his irises. He’d beat him to the floor. Jungkook’s cheeks were purple when Yoongi hobbled out of his basement. He might have been better with Jungkook, but Jungkook was better without him.

“Don’t be sorry,” Yoongi tries again, but his voice wavers so he clams up. 

Jungkook gives a big snort. The bed dips, and he rises onto his side. Yoongi feels those saucers taking in his expression, and he regrets he can’t look cooler when he cries. But he wills himself to say what he should have five years ago. He turns to face Jungkook whose arm now lays on his chest with a fistful of his shirt.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry,” he reaches up, cupping his cheek. “I-I’m…. It’s five years. Why are you here? Why are you hurt? Why didn’t it work? I left because-” Yoongi’s throat catches and he can’t continue. He swallows hard, licking his lips. Jungkook’s eyes flick down as he licks his own. “I’m sorry I thought I knew what was best for you.”

Jungkook knocks his fist against Yoongi’s chest, the same pattern he’s used on every door that’s ever stood between them. “I know what’s best for me,” he says, but it doesn’t come out strong. Yoongi chuckles a bit, wiping a tear on Jungkook’s face. “I know what I want.” He shifts closer.

Yoongi’s heart jumps to his throat. His fingers curl tighter on Jungkook’s cheek. As Jungkook moves closer, Yoongi’s reminded of why he’d moved farther. Farther from all this.

But that was five years ago.

And this is now.

A now where Jungkook is a man, in his bed, lips hovering over his, eyes asking for permission, asking a question Yoongi knows they’d both answered long ago and filed away.

So he tilts up. The brush of their lips isn’t electrifying. His heart doesn’t stutter. No, it feels as though it’s beating again. Whatever it did before was simply keeping him alive. Jungkook’s mouth on his felt like living.

Jungkook held Yoongi, arm curling under his head and other hoisting him over him. He hovers above him but doesn’t crush him. Jungkook’s kisses and touches cherish him. Yoongi’s arms wrap around Jungkook’s biceps, momentarily startled at the man he felt over him. He tasted Jungkook, something so familiar despite years of absence. Jungkook eagerly returned the action, beckoning Yoongi’s tongue to chase his.

Yoongi pet Jungkook’s cheek while Jungkook’s hands ran over his sides, thighs still holding him up, memorizing Yoongi’s form as though he may leave him again. Yoongi did his best to anchor himself to Jungkook, trying to convey that he won’t leave.

Not this time. 

“Hyung,” Jungkook practically whimpers. Yoongi doesn’t reply, just presses up into Jungkook, beckoning him closer. Jungkook rolls into him, legs slotting between his as his heavy chest presses Yoongi deeper into the bed. “I’m sorry,” Jungkook mutters into Yoongi’s mouth. “I should have tried harder back then.”

Yoongi nips at his bottom lip and can’t help but smile when Jungkook’s breath hitches. “Stop,” Jungkook tries to retort so he bites a bit harder. He’s surprised when his hips buck into Yoongi. He strokes his hair. “I’m sorry, too. But you’re here now.”

Jungkook pulls back, eyes wide. Like he’s finally realizing where he is, whose door he came to, who is underneath him. Tear-stained cheeks rise as he smiles down, rubbing his nose against Yoongi’s.

“I’m here now.” Yoongi nods back at him. He pulls him in and kisses him as he wished he had all those years ago. Holds him in his bed with all the feelings they’d left under the sheets.

For now, they reveled in it. Being together. Speaking their feelings. Apologizing instead of using their fists.

Tomorrow, they’ll deal with it. Why Jungkook showed up at his door. What they’ve been up to. The pieces they need to glue back together.

But now, it’s the night. It’s the bed. It’s them.


	2. Chapter 2

Yoongi wakes and reaches over.

Empty.

His throat closes. Memories seize him. Memories of emptiness, of loneliness, centered on weeks of reaching for Jungkook to find nothing beside him and it was his fault.

He bolts up. Was it a mirage? Had he stayed up too late working, and his demons had literally crept into his bed? Yoongi slips on socks and pads into the living room, wondering if there is any sign that last night was real. Should he check the shoe shelf? What proof could there even be?

Jungkook sits in one of his chairs, head dozing to the side. His fringe brushes over the tops of his eyes, his mouth slightly parted from his cheek plumped against his shoulder.

“Jungko-“ the word catches in Yoongi’s throat. The tears are just behind his eyes, welling and waiting to crash down. Yoongi still feels like his throat hasn’t opened up.

Jungkook stirs, shoulders reaching his ears as he stretches. When he sees Yoongi, a bashful smile crosses his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I was going to leave,” Jungkook starts, hands bracing on the arms of the chair. Yoongi takes a step forward, “but I couldn’t. but I... Wouldn’t get back in bed either.”

“I thought you left,” is all Yoongi can manage.  _ I thought you were a dream. Maybe a demon sent here to torment me. I thought you’d come to show me what it feels like to abandon someone. I thought I’d lost you again. _

Jungkook’s expression hardens. “I don’t leave, Hyung.”

“You just said you would.”

Jungkook’s mouth bobs, and suddenly it feels like back in the day. Yoongi picking apart his words to tease him or make a joke. But it’s a fleeting familiarity.

Without his eyes closed, without Jungkook cuddled up to him, everything stays in reality, in the present.

In Yoongi’s Seoul apartment.

“Jungkook, I don’t want you to go,” Yoongi says before he can overthink it. He only then realizes how tense Jungkook was as his form melts a bit, face softening. “But, why are you here? How did you find me?”

Jungkook’s fingers scratch at the fabric of the chairs, looking around the apartment. Yoongi looks to, trying to decipher what Jungkook might think of him based on the place. It’s practically staged. The same set up he saw in Ikea and said “sure” to just because he didn’t want it to feel empty. He didn’t want the home to reflect who he was, as a home should.

Because it would be exactly that, empty.

“You got out, Hyung,” Jungkook starts. “You made it.”

Yoongi isn’t sure how to answer, so he takes one of the chairs opposite Jungkook. He leans into it, arms also resting on the arms. Jungkook leans forward, elbow resting on his knees. Bruised knees, some green and healing, some purple.

“You got out, and I got stuck,” Jungkook continues, studying the carpet. ”Without you, I was no one.”

“That’s not true,” Yoongi cuts in. It’s not. Jungkook was so much. To all of them. Without him, they were no one. Without one of them, they were no one. He wonders if they are all no one now. “You can always be your own person without me,” Yoongi tries, “you were better without me.”

He sure is.

Jungkook smiles, and it hurts. It’s so sad, the way his lips turn up but his cheeks don’t rise. How his eyes squint against tears rather than the tightness of his smile. “That’s what you told me.”

There’s silence. Jungkook won’t look up, so Yoongi takes him in. His brown hair is still fluffy, overgrown. His knees aren’t the only thing that’s bruised, knuckles, on one hand, a little red. And he’s thin. So thin.

“Jungkook, tell me,” Yoongi tries again.

“What?” Jungkook looks up, eyes suddenly alight with anger. “So you can tell me to go? How someone else can help? How I should help myself?” Jungkook stands and Yoongi looks up. Lets him tower over him as he stalks towards him. “Going to shove me into the stairs again if I beg you to let me stay with you?”

Yoongi feels it. The tear roll down his cheek. It stings his skin just like the memory. He was so confused then. He just knew he had to get away from Jungkook. He was trash. A bad influence. He’d only take Jungkook down with him.

Jungkook drops to his knees, slouching onto one of Yoongi’s legs. The boy before him was broken and bruised. And Yoongi sat in his clean apartment he could afford on his own.

He’d really abandoned Jungkook. Run from the responsibility. And when he finally made it, he was too embarrassed to go back for Jungkook. Still thought of himself as unworthy of the boy.

Still does.

“Hyung, please,” Yoongi’s hand reaches before he can think, cupping Jungkook’s wet cheek. “Please come back to me.”

Yoongi balls his fist for fear he might crush Jungkook’s cheek. After moving on, he’s scared he’ll hold on too tightly. He might crush him like the world he’d left him to.

He could beat the world if he’d only stop being a coward. Because back then, running from Jungkook meant running from himself. And bringing back Jungkook, no, coming back to Jungkook, meant coming back to himself. The him he’d buried and managed to hide all these years in between.

But now, he had a new opportunity. He could pull Jungkook up. He needed to pull Jungkook up. He owed it to him. He might get dragged down, but at least he wouldn’t take Jungkook with him. “Okay.”


End file.
